Harry Potter I Know You

A/N: I have no idea where this came from. I guess I got tired of waiting for everyone else to write fluff, so I tried my hand in it once more. This didn't exactly turn out the way I planned it, but then, nothing ever does. And before you even wonder -- _no_, this is not a songfic to "Once Upon A Dream." It's just my little bit of pointless, fluffy fluff, writtenpast my bedtime andhere for your entertainment. Hope you enjoy.

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I was almost done writing a letter to Viktor when Ron walked through the portrait hole. He had just returned from detention with Snape, and he was looking rather glum.

"How was detention?" I asked conversationally as he plopped into a nearby chair.

"Don't want to talk about it," he said simply. He sighed and massaged his temples for a moment. Then he noticed my letter and his eyes flashed.

"Who's that for?" he demanded, reaching for the parchment.

I yanked it from his reach and replied, "Viktor."

I've always found it very amusing to watch Ron get so flustered over my friendship with Viktor. Mostly because that's all it is -- a friendship. But he'll never believe that, as much as I try to convince him. So I've just accepted the fact that, according to Ron, Viktor is an insensitive child molester who wishes for nothing but to strip me of my innocence, and it is up to Ron to see that I have absolutely nothing to do with him. So I silently basked in his jealousy while I half-listened to his speech about morality, ignorance, and fame.

When he was done, I stated, "Ron, you're starting to treat me exactly the way you treat Ginny, and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"What are you on about?" he bellowed.

"You are far too protective of her, constantly disapproving of her boyfriends, never giving her a moment's peace to herself-"

"She's my _sister_!" he shouted. "And you've got to admit that Corner fellow was a bit dodgy."

I started to object, but he cut me off. "Besides, you've never had a real boyfriend," he glanced at me, "...have you?"

"That's not the point!" I didn't deliberately avoid the subject, but really, I couldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me say no.

"You criticize every boy that I spend my time with, Viktor in particular," I rolled my eyes when his name made Ron scowl, "and I'm beginning to think that, besides yourself and Harry, you believe that every male on the planet has nothing but horrid intentions."

"That's not true," he said matter-of-factly, "I have never excluded myself from that belief."

I just barely managed to restrain myself from slapping him across the face right then and there. However, I continued and decided not to dwell on the idea of Ron having impure thoughts about anyone.

"So who, besides Harry, do you propose I spend time with?"

"Neville's not such a bad bloke."

"Harry and Neville, then?" I asked and stood up, pretending that settled it.

"Well," he shot to his feet as well, "and...well, me."

His ears tinged with red but he looked me straight in the eye.

"But if your intentions are just as bad as those of every other boy in the world, why should you have the honor of being my friend?" I asked slyly.

"Because I know what goes on inside my head, and it isn't...well..." his cheeks burned, "..._that_."

I stared at him blankly. I couldn't believe that those words had just come out of his mouth. Well, I could believe them and their meaning, but I had a hard time swallowing the fact that _he_ had made the transition on his own. One minute we were discussing strictly platonic relationships, and suddenly he had plunged into something more.

"It isn't what, Ron?" I asked, as though I didn't know full well what he was talking about.

"You know full well what I'm talking about, Hermione," he mumbled at the floor.

"But if I am to understand why I can spend time with you and no one else with bad intentions, I must know what sort of things set you apart from the rest," I explained calmly.

He raised his head and simply stared at me. His eyes studied me, as though searching for a hidden meaning in my words. I studied him as well, wondering where this conversation could possibly lead us. We had had arguments before over silly things like letters and house elves (not that house elves themselves are silly, but the conditions that they suffer are quite silly things to fight about with your best friend), but this had the potential to become the first serious conversation that Ron and I had shared about anything but Harry. He continued to stare at me with his cruel, blue eyes, and I continued to pretend that my heart was not racing like mad. He had always had that effect on me. When I hugged him in third year, after the Scabbers incident, I immediately cursed myself, convinced that he could feel my racing heart. However, he only patted me on the head and showed absolutely no signs of enjoying my touch as much as I enjoyed his.

Suddenly, his gaze dropped to the floor and he sank down into the couch. I followed suit, hoping that these were signs that he was prepared to give me an answer -- a _real_ answer -- to whatever question he thought I was asking. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. For a moment I thought that he was refusing to tell me anything.

"I know you," he said finally, into his hands. I stared at him, shocked. That was it? I had waited six years for his acknowledgment? I considered leaving, pretending to assume that he was finished, but he dropped his hands and looked at me fiercely.

"I've known you for six years. I know your determination, your skills, your ups and downs. I know what makes you happy enough to cry, sad enough to fall apart, mad enough to explode. I know exactly what to say to push every one of your buttons and exactly what do to make you want to throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower. I've seen you do things that no one else could do. I've lost sleep wondering if anyone has ever known anyone as well as I know you, or felt-"

He faltered. A blush crept into his cheeks and my stomach did an interesting jig. My heart knew what he had almost said, but my mind argued that he had no idea what he was talking about. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. I instinctively raised my hand to flatten it, but he caught it in mid-air. I stared at him questioningly but he did not let go. I wondered if he could feel my fingers burning with his touch.

He sighed and, seeming to have gathered the courage, continued, "or felt as insanely happy as I do when I'm with you."

I gasped audibly. He stared down at our hands, the color of his face now rivaling that of his hair. My ears rung with the words that he had just said, and it took every ounce of me to stop myself from jumping for joy, or screaming at him for waiting half of his life to tell me, or shouting a million "I love you"'s to make up for six years. I didn't manage, however, to stop myself from throwing my arms around him and holding on to him as though he were the most precious thing in my life. Because he most definitely was.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and all the tension seemed to flow out of him. I buried my face in his shoulder and prayed that he would never let go. We stayed that way for a long while, until finally he pushed me away slightly to look me in the face.

"So," he said in a deeper voice than usual, "does that mean you...also...you know..." he gestured uselessly into the air.

I grabbed his hand and entwined his fingers with mine and waited for him to finish.

He avoided my eyes. "...like me?"

Did I _like_ him? What a horrible choice of words. I like to read. I like Chocolate Frogs. I like Professor Lupin. What I feel for Ron is stronger than any emotion that I have ever come into contact with, and it certainly isn't something that I could put into words. It was for this reason that, in that moment, I closed the space between us and pressed my lips against his.

What I felt then I couldn't even begin to describe. It was more entertaining than reading my first book. It was more exciting than receiving my Hogwarts letter. It was more mysterious than getting my wand. It was more adventurous than using a Time Turner. It was more frightening than stealing potions from Snape's office. It was more pleasing than capturing Rita Skeeter. It was heaven.

After we parted, I rested my head on his chest and decided that it was the most wonderful place in the world. He tightened his arms around me and I sighed. Looking up into his eyes, which had in them a fire I had never seen before, I said the only thing that my mouth could manage before capturing his again.

"I know you, too."


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance